Story 10: Reaching the top, with a saddle and a song

When you tell yourself that you can't do something it's more likely that you'll stop trying. It may well be that you really can't do it, but if you don't keep trying how will you ever really know for sure? This week I managed to do two things that I've been telling myself for years I couldn't do. Fortunately, I managed to stop listening to myself long enough to think it was possible to achieve these things and, aw man, were they worth the wait! One involves cycling and one involves singing (...bear with me...!)

1. Reaching the top (cycling)

I've always been rubbish at cycling up hills. At least, that's what I've always told myself. OK, maybe not always. When I was a kid out cycling round the ever-so-safe streets of Cumbernauld (one of Britain's 'new towns'), I wasn't rubbish at cycling up hills. Not that I remember anyway. What I do remember is the very moment when I decided that I was rubbish at hills. We were out for a family cycle along the path from Callander to Strathyre, many moons ago, when my kids were around the same age that I would've been when I was carefree cycling around the streets of Cumbernauld. We came to a big, steep hill. Off they went. All of them. Alex and the kids. Easy peasy. Off I went. Jeeso. I got about a third of the way up and everything stopped working. Not the bike, it was working fine. I just couldn't turn the pedals. So, I stopped. Alex and the kids were at the top, shouting and encouraging me on. 'Come on mum, you can do it!' But, I couldn't. I just couldn't do it. I tried a few times to get going again but it just wasn't happening. 'There must be something wrong with these gears!' I shouted up to Alex. So, he came down the hill and tried to help. Gears were fine. With a wee bit of a push and a big bit of encouragement I managed to get going again. For a few yards. Then I stopped. Everything stopped working again. Sod it. I can't do this. I'm a rubbish cyclist and I can't cycle up hills. So, I got off my bike and pushed it the rest of the way. And, ever since, I've believed that I'm rubbish at cycling up hills. Now, you might say, is that really such a big deal?! Well, no, I could definitely have got through the rest of my life without managing to comfortably cycle up a steep hill. But, aw man, what would I have been missing?!! During our cycle last Sunday, from Dunkeld to Perth and back (a few more details here) I managed to cycle up every hill without stopping and it felt totally awesome! Now, I don't think that's because I've become super-fit during these past few weeks; what I do think has changed is my attitude to trying to reach the top. Instead of starting at the bottom, looking up and thinking to myself 'I'm never going to manage this one...', I approached each of the hills on Sunday with the words of Rebecca Ramsay ringing in my ears 'Head out to the hills and enjoy their magic' (along with some of the more practical advice that I'd read on her site). And I guess this would've sounded ridiculous to me a few weeks ago - but it really was magic! I did it! And it felt great! I'm not rubbish at cycling up hills! OK, I'm still pretty rubbish at cycling up hills because a few walkers almost passed us on the way, but the point is that I can do it. I'm telling myself I can do it - or, I can at least keep trying to do it instead of keeping on saying 'nope, I'm rubbish at that, no point in even trying. Alex, gies a push..!' And that's how I'll continue to reach the top of big hills. Maybe not always quite managing it, but I'll be giving it a better go with a better attitude.

2. Reaching the top (singing)

First, I don't mean reaching the top in a talent competition or anything like that! No, I'm trying to be metaphorical here! Second, I should probably explain why there's stuff about singing on a cycling blog. Well, reference to singing's likely to crop up every now and again on this wee blog as it's something that I love and something that I do a lot of with my choir. And, the buzz that I'm getting from my cycling exploits is pretty similar to the buzz that I get from our choir exploits. I don't have a sore butt, or handle bar palsy after choir practice, but I do feel the buzz from the flow of endorphins in the exact same way as I do after a cycle. After a bad experience involving a Greek Island, a packed pub, copious amounts of alcohol, and taking the microphone to sing a very flat version of 'Oh Ye Cannae Shove Yer Granny Aff A Bus', I swore never to sing on my own in public again. I told myself that I couldn't sing solo. I thought I'd be rubbish at it and sing flat. But being a member of the Heart of Scotland Choir (no ordinary choir; more Madonna than Mendelssohn) gave me the confidence to try again and for the past year or so I've been able to walk to the microphone at the front of the choir (still pretty nervously) and sing a few solo parts. However, I still had another demon to conquer. One of my music teachers at school, many moons ago, told me that I should stick to singing low songs as I sounded 'screechy' when I hit the high notes. So, I stopped singing high notes. Because I was rubbish at it. My music teacher said so, so it must've been true. Even in the shower at home. I just didn't do the high notes. But, choir leaders Annie and Jane don't really do 'don't do', they do 'we're pretty sure you can do' and 'we'll help give you the confidence to do what we know you can do'. And, 'even if we don't know that you can do, we're going to give you a go if you'd like to have a go!' (Are you keeping up with this..?!) And so it was that last night I stood in front of the microphone in The Great Hall of Stirling Castle and sang some high notes. I thought I sounded screechy, because I've been telling myself for 30 years that I sound screechy when I sing high notes. But it seemed to go down well and, once I'd stopped shaking, I got such a buzz from reaching those top notes. Just like with the cycling, I might not always manage it, and sometimes I might sound a bit screechy or not quite make it all the way, but that doesn't mean I should stop trying.

So, there you go. Reaching the top with my saddle and a song. A great way to start the weekend!

Story 9: A picture that says it all really

One of my choir pals sent me this picture. I love it - thank you Mair! There's no story to go with the picture; I think it speaks for itself really :)

Story 8: The ride that started it all

Tour d'Arran

Date: 11 - 12 July

Distance: 56 miles 

I've mentioned our cycle round Arran a few times already, but I guess I wanted to record it properly as my first 'Ride to Remember'!

We had headed off to Arran because the sun was shining and we just fancied a wee break away from it all. Alex suggested taking the bikes and I, reluctantly, agreed. When we arrived off the ferry into Brodick I asked one of the locals which was the best way for a novice cyclist to go. ‘Well, if you head north, it’s flat for about 10 miles till you pass Sannox. And the scenery’s lovely. If you head south, you hit a really big steep hill straight away that goes on for miles and then it’s really steep up and down after that. I’d head north to Sannox and back again; that’s a good, easy route for a novice.’ So, that’s what we planned to do. However, Sannox came around ever so quickly and I heard myself saying to Alex, ‘Let’s carry on. I’m loving this and don’t want to head back the way!’ Hm, little did I know that just a few miles past Sannox we would hit two really steep hills (no, I mean it, REALLY steep hills), first through Glen Sannox and then through Glen Chalmadale.  I just about had a fit when we turned the corner and I could see the long and winding road, the breathtaking scenery and a breathtakingly humongous hill stretching ahead of me. But, with head down, handle bars gripped and a few sweary words muttered I went for it. I didn’t do a very good job but - with a lot of pushing (quite literally) and fantastic encouragement from Alex – I did manage to cycle all the way to the top of the Glens. Catching my breath on the many occasions that I had to stop gave me plenty of time to take in the truly beautiful surrounding scenery, so going at dead slow/stop pace does have its advantages! The very best thing though about going uphill is going downhill on the other side. The child in me came well and truly out and I couldn’t resist a fair few ‘Woohoo’s’ as we free-wheeled at what felt like 70 but was actually closer to 30mph (according to Alex's Garmin!) down into Lochranza.

By this time we’d cycled around 15 miles and a very yummy sandwich and real ginger beer from The Sandwich Station went down a treat. We sat on a bench opposite this lovely wee take-away place, gazing into the beautifully clear water and thinking how nice it would be to go for a swim. But, the road was calling and soon we were off again! 

I found it quite hard going between Lochranza and Blackwaterfoot, but was still thoroughly enjoying the ride. It was much more exposed than before; we’d cycled round the top of the island and were now travelling down the less sheltered side of Arran. There were a few more hills to tackle, though none compared to the challenge of the morning’s climbs. The last five miles or so before Blackwaterfoot were really tough; mostly because I was absolutely knackered, but also because some of my ‘bits’ were really sore. Like my hands, my calves, my thighs, my shoulders, my back, my back bottom, my front bottom, my ... basically, everything was sore. But, it was all well worth it. I’ll never forget how elated I felt when I spotted the ‘Blackwaterfoot’ sign and knew that I’d managed to cycle about 32 miles.

I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a beer quite as much as I did that day sitting outside Blackwaterfoot's Kinloch Hotel. I didn’t realise that beer could taste so good. To be honest, it could’ve been the rubbishiest beer on the planet, but it would still have tasted heavenly at that moment! Poor Alex then headed off over The String (the most evil road for cyclists on the whole of Arran) to collect the car so that me and my bike could be whisked back to Brodick the easy way. While he was away, I took myself into the water to help relieve my aching muscles (like a serious athlete!). The sea was icy cold, but I felt all warm and fuzzy inside just having a wee moment to think about how awesome the day had been.

The next morning we drove back to Blackwaterfoot with the bikes and took off again from where we’d stopped. This was a much, much tougher day for me. I was still running on adrenalin from the day before but my butt and my hands were particularly sore. I learned the hard way during our Tour d’Arran that gripping the handle bars really tightly won’t get me up the hills any easier and it’ll leave me with a common cycling injury (check me out!) called ‘handlebar palsy’. I’ll tell you more about that some other time. As for the sore butt, well, that’s a whole other issue that I still haven’t quite got to the bottom of.  I’m sure my quest for the best saddle, best shorts, best padding, best position and any other multitude of things that can help soften the soreness of my down-below bits when I’m cycling will take up plenty of space in my not-so-serious stories to come. For now, it’s suffice to say that the second day of our ride around Arran was much tougher – even though it was a good bit shorter – than the first. The road from Blackwaterfoot to Brodick round the south of the island isn’t as nice a road as the north route. It’s full of potholes and it’s hilly. And I mean hilly. It was a different kind of hilly from the long slog of the scenic glens from the day before. Sharp, steep, unforgiving and way too many of them. I found it really tough and I was oh so close to giving up by the time we reached Whiting Bay. We’d cycled about 15 miles and I was absolutely knackered. Fantastic views, lots of encouragement and the thought of an ice cold beer kept me going.

Lunch sitting outside a wee cafe called Coast (which I’d recommend for the food, but not for the hospitality) provided a bit of a distraction before we set off on the last leg of our tour. Those last ten miles were so hard. I kept shouting at my bike; as if that was going to make it any easier! ‘Come ON you f****r’ (sorry Mum). Oh dear. At least it was only the clegs and Alex that could hear me. And then, the glorious last bit. Hooray! That massive uphill out of Brodick that the local woman had warned us about was, for us, a fantastic downhill and my shouting and swearing turned to shouting and cheering (along with a few wee tears...) as I whizzed down towards the ‘Brodick’ sign. Aw man, I can’t begin to explain how good that felt. The wee clip that I posted on Story 1 probably best sums it up.

So, that was it. My first proper cycle and the one that got me hooked. I may well be a not-so-serious cyclist, but I seriously enjoyed our Tour d’Arran; the first, I predict, of many special (but hopefully not quite so sore) experiences on my saddle.

Story 7: Deciding to Pedal for Scotland

A few weeks ago I googled 'cycling events in Scotland', just to see what was out there for not-so-serious cyclists. Top of the search was 'Pedal for Scotland' and, after a quick read through the details, I decided to sign up for it. The farthest I've cycled in one go so far is 32 miles, but that was during our Tour d'Arran and I think I was running on adrenalin for much of that day! The Pedal for Scotland event gives you a few different options, but the route that Alex and I have gone for is the 47 mile ride from Glasgow to Edinburgh. A few of our friends have done it in the past and I'm told that there's a great atmosphere, great camaraderie and a great sense of achievement - and I believe there are a few good munch and beer stops along the way. Sounds perfect!

I'm also going to combine the challenge of the cycle with the challenge of raising some dosh for the event's nominated charity; the STV Appeal. I'd decided a while ago that I'd like to organise, or take part in, some kind of fundraising event this year in memory of my Dad (who died twenty years ago in October) so when I discovered that this cycling event was supporting a charity that supports Scottish kids who are affected by the whole range of horrendous consequences of living in poverty, I knew I'd found the one. My dad would definitely have approved; he hated to see anyone struggling, let alone children, and strongly believed that everyone deserved a fair shot at life - and that seems to be just what the STV Appeal is all about. Ocht, and I just want to do something that'll feel special for me in memory of my very special Dad.

So, I'm now going to unashamedly plug my Just Giving page - click here! - in the hope that some of you lovely readers might be tempted to make a wee donation for something I consider to be a really worthwhile cause. (Jeeso, only seven stories in and I'm already asking for cash...!) I promise that I'll be doing my best to complete the 47 mile cycle good style and, with a little luck, will gather a few good stories to share with you along the way...!

Story 6: Being a danger to the public on Boris's bike

I've only managed one wee cycle this week, partly because I've been suffering from an aching back but mainly because we were down in London over the weekend. For various reasons, it was an emotional few days so our lovely little nine mile pedal round the park, before we headed for home yesterday, was a nice way to finish our stay off. 

We set off on one of Boris's Bikes for a leisurely trek round Hyde Park. The 'Barclays Bikes' is a great scheme (and I'm sure the idea didn't come from Boris Johnson, but his name will forever be associated with it following his launch of the initiative in 2010) that allows you to hire a bike from, then return it to, one of the many docking stations that are dotted around London. It's especially great if you're only going to be on the bike for 30 minutes as you don't pay a penny for the privilege. You are, of course, a free-wheeling advert for Barclays but I guess that's a small price to pay...

Once we'd figured out the system we were off and running:

Now, as you can see, I'm not wearing very sensible cycling attire. We hadn't been planning on cycling during our visit, so I had a choice of flip-flops or court shoes to wear on my feet. The flip-flops won the toss. We also didn't have helmets, but neither did anyone else cycling around the park and it did feel strangely liberating to ride our bikes just as we did when we were kids. We didn't venture anywhere near the main roads and didn't go anywhere near fast enough to sustain a major injury! Which was just as well...

The bikes only have three gears, but I couldn't quite master them! Every time I changed up or down, I had to fiddle about with the wee twirly bit on the handlebar till the chain stopped making a clicky noise (yup, this not-so-serious cyclist hasn't quite got to grips with the lingo yet...) My incompetence with the very simple gears also meant that sometimes I'd accidentally slip from third to first, but still be peddling hard, as if I was in third. The result of this, as an innocent young couple who were out for a leisurely morning stroll discovered, was that my feet - and hence my flip-flops - were liable to fly off the pedals. Said couple not only had to dodge roller-bladers, groups of joggers and Scottish cycling plodders in the park on Sunday morning; they also had a very near miss from a flying flip-flop! I'm happy to report that they escaped unharmed and that nothing was damaged except my own not-so-serious pride. 

Apart from nearly decapitating a pedestrian, it was a really lovely wee cycle. Maybe next time I'll even venture out onto the roads on one of Boris's bikes - but very definitely only if I've remembered to pack my trainers and helmet...!

Story 5: Saved by a SAGA cycling crew

I'm not long back home from the first proper cycle on the new road bike (the trip from the bike shop doesn't really count!) and had another awesome time. I keep expecting the novelty to kind of wear off but, so far so good! I bought this wee book last week (see, I'm totally hooked! Buying books and everything!):

and today we decided to follow one of the suggested routes from Balloch to Bowling then back again. True to the book, it was a 'good and easy ride' and it really did feel like a pretty effortless 20 mile round trip! There wasn't one hill the whole way, we were mostly cycling along a 'path' (a disused rail line and a trail along the riverside), the sun was shining, lunch was good and the beer stop at the end was glorious! Oh, and I got my first cycling injury! It was just a wee cut to my hand from a spikey bit of sharp metal on one of the gates we had to open on the cycling path but Jeeso, did it bleed! Alex carries bits and bobs in his rucksack while we're out on our jaunts, but unfortunately hadn't packed any plasters. An old napkin from one of the lunch stops on a previous trip was all we could find to mop up the mess. However, a little bunch of seriously wrinkly Sunday cyclists came to the rescue! This little SAGA cycling crew just happened to be cycling towards us and as soon as they spotted my dripping hand the two lovely ladies at the front of the group sprang into action, both reaching into their wee bum bags and both pulling out a plaster for this not-so-seriously injured but seriously ill-prepared novice! 

Needless to say, next time we set out we'll make sure there's a pack of plasters in the back pack. After all, we might just bump into some seriously unprepared new cyclist on our travels...

The offending gate, the skanky napkin and the seriously unprepared cyclist...

Story 4: The search for a not-so-sore saddle begins

After telling Kenny (of Rock & Road Cycles) by text that I'd wallop him if he told me one more time to toughen up, he couldn't have been more helpful when I went back to see him yesterday. We tried a couple of different saddles in the shop, but it's kind of hard to tell which one's the best till I'm sat on them for any length of time on the road. So, Kenny very kindly gave me a few saddles to try at home.

First one I'm going to try is this:

My first reaction to this was, 'Are you having a laugh Kenny?! Apart from not being funky green and white, it doesn't look any different from this one!!':

But, Kenny assures me that although all of the saddles he's given me to try might look the same, they're subtly and ergonomically very different! And, I'll not really know which one's the best for me till I get out on the road and try them out. So, that's what I'll be doing, hopefully very soon. Just maybe need one more day for my nippy bits to recover from Wednesday's cycle back from the bike shop...

Story 3: A wee free feed

As you saw on my first post, Alex and I have been videoing some of our cycling exploits. It started just as a bit of fun, but I actually quite like that we're building up a wee diary of 'how it was at that very moment' snippets. Most of the recordings will remain private (mainly because they'd be pretty boring to anyone other than us!), but now and again I'd like to share some of them here.

I have a bit of a reputation for getting stuff discounted or for free - without really trying - and this wee clip shows just how tickled I am when that happens. It also goes some way to underlining my 'not-so-serious cyclist' label:

I should add that our maple syrup-less breakfast was still absolutely delicious! And, I would've been more than happy to pay for it! But I must admit that getting a feed for free definitely added to the pleasure of that particular Sunday morning cycle. Sometimes it's the simplest things...